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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332719">Mad Rush</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectedhippo/pseuds/resurrectedhippo'>resurrectedhippo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel 616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Brain delete, Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Iron Man: Director of SHIELD, M/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:22:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectedhippo/pseuds/resurrectedhippo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s all we are, Steve. Just bodies containing memories that light up with emotions. Reactions to life, to actions, to events. We’re just bodies and chemical balances and imbalances that feel shit. Remembering and forgetting—both are punishments. But the decision is made, Steve. This is all there is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mad Rush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Uhhh, this is my first time doing an epistolary. I hope I did Tony's voice justice. If not, kick my ass. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtQpSGyPCBE">I imagine a montage of Tony drinking and crying to this song.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:37am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>You wrote me a letter first so I decided, why not, what do I have to lose now. Already lost you. A dead man can’t write back and unless a miracle happens (doubt it), you’ll never read these.</p><p>You asked me a question at the end of it. You know. You, in a cell, screaming out a question I couldn’t answer at that moment. I couldn’t take off the helmet because you’ve always read me too well. You’d try something. You’d see me. Couldn’t have that. Sometimes I hate that you can do that. Read me is as easy as you throw the shield. But if that’s true, why couldn’t you understand. You know me. I know you. Half my adult life, Steve. That has to mean something. Right. I thought. Well.</p><p>You looked terrible with blood on your cheek and your ruined suit, but I found that I couldn't take my eyes off you. Even when it hurt to look at you. </p><p>I wake up and I see you, but I know I’m still dreaming. I’m a fucking mess, Steve. I think I’ll drink again. Soon. It’s bound to happen. You can't carry me out of the burning building this time.</p><p>Last time I looked at the mirror, I saw Ru.</p><p>I think she’s disappointed.</p><p>I don’t look anymore. </p><p>Am I seeing things. Maybe. Samson told me that it's likely due to Extremis. It rewrote my body. Enhanced endurance, restorative ability, better motor functions. Processing information at lightning speed. Are you angry. Am I still human, Steve. Was this what you felt when you got the serum and occupied a different body. I suspect that with you, Steve, you're still you deep down to the core. Steve Rogers is what makes Captain America. For me...These days, I'm not too sure. I'm getting too philosophical now. At the core of it, I made my decision with Extremis. It is what it is.</p><p>When I inevitably fall asleep tonight, I hope I dream of you.</p><p>You signed your letter as <i>Yours,</i> I’m not sure that’s true. People cannot belong to others, but that’s never been us, hasn’t it? You’re Captain America, you belong to the people. You can’t ever belong to yourself, Steve. I think I feel bad for the both of us.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 3:17am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Somehow, between missions, commissions, and serving as SHIELD's director, I was able to pick up a book. An old one I read long ago. I found a copy in the library at the Avenger's Mansion. Somehow, the battered copy still survived. You're probably wondering why I was there. Well, is it too nostalgic to say I miss who I used to be before all of this...this mess. I made my choices, it's done. But anyway, Steve, you and your speeches. It was never my strong suit, that was always you. So let me tell you what Baldwin said: “There is often something beautiful, there is always something awful, in the spectacle of a person who has lost one of his facilities, a faculty he never questioned until it was gone, and who struggles to recover it.” </p><p>I think that covers it.</p><p>I'm Director Stark now. I asked Maria to bring me an espresso. She would probably shoot me the first chance she gets.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 6:13am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I fucked Maya. Or. We’re fucking. Alright. This isn’t a confession, ok. I don’t know. I think you deserve to know. It’s not serious. We can’t have anything resembling normalcy. I’m me. She’s her. Brilliant and still beautiful. A bioterrorist I’ve employed because I need to watch her and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. She still wants Extremis. I’m not signing off. We fuck. She thinks she can get me to give her more permission. She’s always disappointed when I say no. She leaves the bed, goes to the kitchen, makes coffee and leaves for the lab. I stay there, boneless and weary of what’s to come. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 2:26am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I’m fucked up. I drank, I’m drinking now. </p><p>Don’t fucking judge me, okay. It’s been a goddamn mess. </p><p><i>You</i> make me wanna drink. Thinking about you. goddamn.</p><p>No, I shouldn’t blame you.</p><p>It’s on me. </p><p>But fuck. </p><p>I got the shield to Bucky. </p><p>Fine. There. Happy?</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:51pm </b>
</p><p>Cap, </p><p>You take. You take. You take. I think I gave you everything. All of it. Maybe it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, alright. I’m sorry, Steve. I am. Forgive me. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 11:34pm </b>
</p><p>Winghead, </p><p>Can I still call you that. After. Well. I haven’t written in a while. It’s been busy. I gave a speech to the suits the other day. Told them you fought and died against the Registration and if they tried to strip away my autonomy as Director of SHIELD, they'd be proving you right. I saw a couple of them smirk. Osborn rolled his eyes. How is he even there. Jesus. </p><p>You’re right, Steve. Sometimes people in power find it hard to listen, even if they’re presented evidence on what is <i>correct</i> and just. It’s not about morals, not for these folks, no matter how much they recycle the same arguments to their constituents. To the people. Maybe people think I’m just as bad as the rest of them. Down to the mud.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 2:19am </b>
</p><p>I’m not doing enough, Steve. I wish I was.</p><p>Shellhead</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 4:49am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I think you might be pissed at me. I shot my own foot today, or I guess, sometime yesterday.  Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. What a day, old pal. It makes me want to believe in God. I got to sleep now.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:33am </b>
</p><p>Steve, </p><p>Guess what, friend. After the fiasco with the Mandarin, Samson persuaded me into taking a weekend off. Dugan and Hill gave me updates every hour, but I didn’t sleep at the quarters in the Helicarrier. I made it home in the Avengers Tower. I saw Carol and Simon sitting side by side, catching a film in the living room. </p><p>Sometimes I wonder, Steve, I truly do. </p><p>Carol jumped up from her spot and ushered me into the kitchen for some leftovers. None of us can cook, no surprise there. Didn’t want to wake Jarvis. And there’s no time to learn anything other than a basic stir-fry. But you always made something half-way decent. Especially when it came to pasta night.</p><p>I should have told you this, but I. I’ve been. Shit, why is this so hard to say even on an email you’ll never read. Fuck. Ok. I’ve been thinking about you. About us. Makes me wanna get high. I drank already, broke that sober streak. Yeah, I’ve fucked up, Steve. I know. I’m this close. This fucking close to flying to 118th Street and buying some coke. I haven’t drank since the last time. I almost hate you for that. Almost. Because thinking about you makes me guilty. Yeah, Steve, guilt. I feel that. Even when you slammed the shield into my helmet — I shouldn’t have gotten used to you defending me in the field with that damned thing — I didn’t hate you.</p><p>I don’t think I ever could. </p><p>Fuck. I guess grief makes a man mauldin. Carol got sick of me sitting in the conference room with all the paperwork I have to do for SHIELD now so we went on a walk throughout Midtown. The place you like, you know, the one by St. Patrick's Cathedral, where the baker makes bagels with extra sesame? It’s gone. Didn’t survive Ultron’s attack. The family moved to New Jersey though, restarting their business in a place that doesn’t get attacked as much as New York. Maybe that’s for the better.</p><p>But, Steve, New York is something else. It’s trite, I know, to call it a city like no other. That’s what happens when all of us superheroes decide we want to set roots in this great city. But with SHRA, we’re ensuring that — </p><p>Nevermind, you don’t want to hear it. Won't talk about it. Not when you can't be here to yell at me. No use in scrawling it on paper when I'd just rehash the event to myself.</p><p>Carol and I found a bakery on 54th Street. It didn’t taste the same though. Maybe that’s the thing, Steve. Things can be replaced. Hell, I’ll even go as far to say <i>people </i> can be replaced. They can be dumped and remade. You’ll find one in a similar shape as long as you pay them enough. I know that as Director of SHIELD now. Even I can be replaced. Someone else can pilot the suit. But you? There’s been Captain Americas after you, but they weren’t Iron Man’s friend. My friend. Fuck.</p><p>In the bakery, there was nothing left but sesame seed bagels. No one else seems to like that but you. I forced myself to swallow it down. Don’t know how you did it, Steve. Maybe I’ll always wonder. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 11:31pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Some old fool visited me a while ago. Uatu sees the universe and all its possibilities. He showed me something. Us. What we could have been. There were so many moments we could have done better. I tried my best. I did. I did. <i>I did.</i> I’m telling you, Steve, goddamn it, I tried. </p><p>I just poured a bottle of Black Label. It’s easy to dip a finger and run the liquid on the rim. Easy to put it on my lips too. Just a taste. Not too much. No, I won’t do it. Already did. Sorry. Sorry, goddamnit, sorry. </p><p>Shit. That’s the thing, Steve. You and I have too many expectations of each other. Maybe that’s where we went wrong.</p><p>There's a statue of you in Arlington. Big and looming. If you were alive, you'd probably blush all the way down to your neck. I never told you, but I liked that sight. Of you, red and embarrassed because you can't take a damn compliment, Steve. Just take it, alright. We commissioned a kid, an artist from Brooklyn to complete the sculpture. Found her profile on the local paper. The President wanted to have this French-Swiss artist do an interpretive sculpture of you, with all these broadlines and dull colors. But Jan, Carol, and I vetoed it. The sculpture the kid made  is how the people see you, Steve. Wish you were here to see it too. </p><p>There's you, raising your shield and the American flag. Red, white, and blue. And dead, dead, dead.</p><p>Sorry, told you, memory makes a man sentimental. </p><p>In one reality, I didn't survive the initial Extremis injection. It might have been for the best. I don't know what being human is anymore, Steve. Men make monsters in the image of their adversaries. Humans tell stories about God. I look at the mirror and all I see is me. More wrinkles in the corners of my eyes. Fuck up, fuck up again. Maybe I'm the only one that notices it. No, that’s not true. The whole world knows. Are people always so critical of their reflection? When you brushed your teeth in the mornings and stared at yourself in the dirty mirror of your shitty apartment, did you ever resent the world for demanding too much out of you? </p><p>Of course not. You’re Steve. You might have smiled your way through it. You don’t have to carry the world anymore. We’ll be fine, Steve. We’ll be alright.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 9:28pm </b>
</p><p>I don’t think I’m alright. Steve. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 12:26am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. </p><p>You asked me a question. That’s the answer.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:04am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Losing you and having to keep on living with you might be the hardest thing I have to do. Somedays, I think it gets easier. That’s what us mortal livings have to tell ourselves. Day by day, the world keeps spinning. But you know, the scientist in me understands that there’s a life out there, away from this blue marble. There’s life out there, greater than me and you. We’ve both seen that in other planets. Other galaxies. I don’t know what you did to me, but somehow, the vastness of existence doesn’t seem to matter as much. I grieve you, Steve. I hope you know that. It’s hard to live knowing I’ve had a hand in losing you. Some nights, I think, maybe if we talked more, if I tried harder. If we didn’t settle on punches on the Mansion, maybe you’d be here. But it’s hard to change your mind. I know you, Steve. I’m the same way. I wish we weren’t so stubborn and that we were better men.</p><p>Even with our choice of careers, I’ve always thought we had time. Maybe I think you were invincible because I look up to you, Steve. An inspiration to all of us. But here you are, gone, buried in the depths of the ocean once again. Namor promised you’ll be undisturbed. Rest easy, old friend.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:58am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I’m afraid. </p><p>Scared for when the memories of you will become far and between. Locked up in some distant galaxy no suit or Quinjet can get to. I’m sorry. I never said that. Always thought apologies too difficult like peeling the suit, piece by piece, and all that’s left is you. Well. Me. And that’s scarier. Nothing more awful than looking at myself in the mirror and knowing what the rest of them think is true. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:17pm </b>
</p><p>Steve, </p><p>It’s winter in New York. I had some down time today. Yeah, what a surprise. I finished all the paperwork at the helicarrier so I busted out my jeans and sneakers and walked to Mosco Street. Out of the armor for the first time in a long while. It’s probably not good to show myself without the armor. Everything could go wrong. I count the hours when there isn’t a crisis. Everything’s gone to shit, Steve. My Avengers—<i>The Mighty Avengers</i>— we’re doing alright. But it’s not the same without you. We make do, though. One gets used to different dynamics in the field.</p><p>Ordered some fried dumplings and ate standing on the corner of Worth Street. Funny, I stand in that through that intersection and that's the only time my life has some worth. Come on, old pal, let a man like me make jokes. I can picture your disgruntled expression now. An eyebrow slightly tilted up, that line under your left eye. I should stop talking to my old ghosts. You still appear, Steve, a shadow that follows. Extremis tells me that there’s nothing there. It’s just my brain sublimating, conflating my pathways, thoughts, and grief all culminating into this madness of seeing you. What the hell, Steve. I can’t tell you to go. You can’t stay. I’m stuck in this intersection, eating fried potstickers that I used to share with you. </p><p>There's no one else I miss but you. I've told you, Steve. You're an inspiration. To all of us. To me. I'm trying. I strive for the best with SHIELD. With SHRA. With the Avengers. I do. It's not enough. I wish it was.</p><p>I lied to you. Well. Sort of.</p><p>I didn’t cry at my father’s funeral. I cried on the way home. Jarvis passed me an embroidered handkerchief with a yellow tulip. He let me keep it. At night, when I think of you and when I’m weak — it’s often — I turn away from staring at the bottle, crawl into bed, and soak that damned handkerchief until the tulip turns a darker shade.</p><p>I’m not yours, you’re not mine. I wish a lot of things were different, so I won’t sign off the same way you did. I still have that letter inside my bedside drawer. I catch myself tracing your rushed scrawl. See, Steve, you’re almost perfect. Penmanship could be improved, though.</p><p>Always,<br/>
Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 3:23am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>You’re back. Well, a version of you is. Guess what the first thing you— well, a version of you— did? Throw the shield to my face. Do you always have to be in a war stance or in a rest parade? I still wonder, whether you’re softer, looser with your girlfriends. Lovers, whatever. Was it like that with Sharon? These days, I don’t think I can manage to unwind. Sometimes I think the rough, jagged parts are all that I have left. I’m not like you, Steve.</p><p>So I hold on. What else can I do. What else.</p><p>I see the version of you from World War II and I’m reminded of your stupid optimism. </p><p>Carol slapped Barnes though. I gotta say, Steve, Bucky's uniform really made him look like your junior. He's better off with the new Captain America suit though. Designed after you, of course, but with Barnes' own twist. </p><p>You punched me in the face. I deserve that though. Killer left hook. I might have forgotten to mention that I had a trip to Madripoor and saw our old friend, Madame Hydra. She recognized my fighting style. I've got to thank you for that. Seeing you in action, spitfire and full of righteous demand reminds me of what we’ve lost. What the world lost.</p><p>We worked together again, side by side. Me and you, me and you. Another version of you with the memory of me. Us. </p><p>I think the rest of the Avengers wanted to keep you in our time. I was attempted, too. But it wouldn’t be right.</p><p>You’re missed Steve. If that wasn’t obvious by my increasingly asinine letters. </p><p>I wish we could have this Cap here. But that Cap belongs to another time, another world, another generation of people. </p><p>I couldn’t talk to Cap though. Carol thinks too much of me. Said I'm the leader of SHIELD because I'm "stronger than anyone." It's not true, Steve. Sometimes a man just gets used to crisis and desensitized to violence. </p><p>Failure, though, that's another beast. You ever read Samuel Beckett? He was after your time, Irish playwright who had a tragic view of life. He's a funny man. Though, you might not like him, Steve. He's probably too much an absurdist for you. You're an idealist in an ugly world and really, that stubborn optimism of yours pisses me off. But I admire it. Respect it. Even if I disagree. Beckett says there's no meaning of life and accepting that well...that leads us to freedom. A different freedom than one you might think of, Steve. You’re dead, so you’re free. The rest of us are held captive in this reality. Suspended animation, Reed might say. </p><p>I caught you, Steve. Tied you up, too. Do you remember your safe word? Come on, let me joke, Steve. You're dead and you'll never leave this. Let the joke land, alright?  But it doesn't last long. Goddamnit, Steve, is every version of you such a straight shooter? </p><p><i>You carry the guilt of someone in charge.</i> </p><p>Let me ask then. <i>Did you?</i> Or was one of us always fated to fall? I am guilty, Steve. It's my fault. That’s on me. Something crazy happened, though. You, that version of you, said "I believe you." That's all that mattered. You. Hearing the words come out of your mouth in that baritone. I almost believed it too. But you and I talk both in our suits and the distance grows, grows, and grows. Strange said some bullshit about the Invaders coming back because it's the will of the people. Regret makes us all wish on wishing bones. </p><p>You, that version of you, asked me about the Civil War. You said it must have been difficult to do what I think is right. It was difficult for you, too, I realize that now. But I wouldn’t change a damn thing. It had to be done.</p><p>It had to be. </p><p>Steve, you have to know that.</p><p>I’m tired of arguing with you on paper, stringing along words you’ll never read. You’re dead. </p><p>I told you about Uatu a while ago. Said he showed me another version of us, where you I was honest. I like to think I've been, even in the omissions. I've tried my best. Please, believe that. In this other version, I ask you for help. Keep me in line because all the while we had the Registration, I doubted it all, Steve. Every single day, I doubted whether I was doing the right thing. I like to think I was. I’m a futurist, you know that. I’ve been thinking about <i>our future</i> as Avengers, heroes, people. Fucking humans. It would have been worse. But maybe that’s the failure of heroism, Steve, you damn yourself in the process of what’s right.</p><p>Sometimes a common threat, an enemy, is all that held us together. We always make sense when we are fighting. Battle is the only time we might be honest, be truer versions of ourselves. I like to think that I know you, Steve. All that you are. All these atoms that make up your flesh. Fitting, isn’t it, a man in a machine — maybe that’s all that’s left of me, repulsor held, battle ready — admires the one made out of blood, flesh, bone. You’re more than that, and fuck you for it. </p><p>I’ve had over four thousand hypotheses about you. Starting that day we found you in ice. Greatest day of my life, Steve. That’s the scientific method. Ask a question, establish a hypothesis based on preliminary observations. I can't get past the first step and I've given up on trying to understand. Categorize you. I found long ago that you defy any boxes. Maybe if I tried harder, I can boil you down to your atoms. Study you in a vacuum. I’m still trying.</p><p>There's about 37 trillion cells in the body. The ordinary man cannot fathom such a large number without comparison to something else. You're made up of all of that and more. And somehow I think you're greater. 37 trillion cells in the body and each one tells me that I miss you, Winghead.</p><p>We worked things out in another universe. It’s too late for this one.</p><p>Always,<br/>
Tony</p>
<hr/><p><b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:42pm </b><br/>
Steve,</p><p>I’ve told you about my five nightmares. Everything is changing. All things change, that’s why we couldn’t play by the same rules. </p><p>I’m just a living repulsor bomb. I think I made Pepper one too. But I’ll fix her up. </p><p>If you were here… I could almost hear your voice, telling me, <i>people don’t need fixing, Tony!</i></p><p>But sometimes they do, Steve. We all do. It’s what we deserve. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 5:13am </b>
</p><p>Steve, </p><p>I used to hear your laughter. </p><p>I’ve always thought it was difficult to be loved. You proved me wrong. I’ve never thought that it's a loveless world, Steve. There’s so much hope. Yearning. Isn’t that why we do what we do? Because we love? Believe me, I did it for that. </p><p>I saw us at war, Steve. I've told you this. I was scared. I needed a solution. This was the best I could do with the hands we were dealt. </p><p>I already knew, since the beginning, since going down this path, that I’d lose our friends. Judas, I’d be Judas. Yeah, it was fine, I told myself.</p><p>I was prepared for you to lose faith in me. To lose your respect, if I had it in the first place. I like to think I did.</p><p>I was right, Steve. I wouldn't change a thing. But. </p><p>I’ve been thinking about Baldwin again: “To defend oneself against a fear is simply to insure that one will, one day, be conquered by it; fears must be faced.” You quoted Mark fucking Twain, so let me give you Baldwin, alright.</p><p>I was scared, Steve. I knew what was going to happen. Us, at war. Chaos. I was preparing myself for it. Face it head on, like the great Baldwin said. I knew I’d lose you. Your friendship. But not like this. I didn’t foresee you dead.</p><p>I’m looking at a bottle right now. Amber in color and I <i>know</i> it tastes good. Sober. I’m sober, three weeks now.</p><p>Haven’t drank since that one night I spilled. Fuck it, I had to give your shield away. Give more parts of you to everyone else. Let me cope. I wake up everyday feeling drunk, lost, and hung over. Maybe loss does that to a man.</p><p>I still have 16 grams of coke and a bottle of vicodin. So, I guess not sober. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:03am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I’m reading again. <i>Cat’s Cradle.</i> A little bit like the song, yeah.</p><p>Our protagonist is flying high on a plane in a free country ruled by a dictator. He’s sitting next to an Ambassador who’s called a communist sympathizer. Funny, I’ve been called the opposite as Director. Facist, pig, the journalists printed and hollered at me in the streets. Anyway, this Ambassador's wife wrote a letter to <i>Times</i> and said that Americans “are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.” </p><p>It's a funny book. I say that without laughing. You’ll like it, I think. Though, it might be too fatalistic for you. You see, I'm a genius, but maybe I'm stupid to believe you're the perfect man. Was the perfect man. Steve, you’re filled with ideals and standards that could only be lived by you. I don’t mean it as a bad thing. I never did. Sometimes admiration sounds like jealousy. I do envy you. Even in death, you’re still what I measure everything against. </p><p>I can’t help but think of you. I don’t know, Steve. It doesn’t have to be love. Replace the word with something vile or another metaphor, but that’s what it is. Being human. Being us, superheroes, viginilate, whatever it is. We’ll see death soon enough. </p><p>You did. </p><p>I wonder these days whether I keep searching for a future already made. A peace that can never be, no matter how much of myself I sell out to get that. I still stand by what I said. I do what I think is best, Steve. So do you, I know. I know. I know. Maybe it’s true. Love, life, peace, it can’t be. The cat’s in the cradle, they say. </p><p>Maybe you might not like this book after all. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 9:58pm </b>
</p><p>Steve.</p><p>I still remember the way you like your coffee in the morning. Made from a pot because you’re old fashioned and utilitarian and no matter how I tried to get you into the habit of using the machine, you refused. No matter, I had thought, it’s just a small thing. Then, you refused bigger things so much so that those small things didn’t matter anymore. Well. I thought they didn’t. I remember. I remember the way you like your eggs and how you smell late at night. </p><p>I wish I didn’t. </p><p>This is my punishment. </p><p>Fuck, Steve. Just fuck it all. Sometimes I think you took everything to the grave and I’m just grappling at the weeds on your tombstone. But that’s a bad metaphor. You’re not buried in the dirt, six feet under. I tried to get you home. But even that’s an approximation. </p><p>890 Fifth. </p><p>Hasn’t been home in a long time. </p><p>Is that it, Steve. Is it. Our home is in ruins. Funny, our portrait still hangs even after the destruction. Even after I threw you across the hall and you punched me in the face and I wish I grabbed your by the shoulders and kissed you stupid instead. Bite and make you bleed some other way. </p><p>Maybe life could be simple. Easy. Easier. But that isn’t us, is it? </p><p>I don’t know who I am without the suit. Connection to Extremis. I like to think there’s a man in there. Maybe there was once a time we could all go home, back to 890 Fifth. Share a pizza and call it easy. Call it home. Call it friendship. That’s probably the issue. Nostalgia is a horrible sentiment because it eats you inside out until you’re just hollow bones. Can’t touch me though. I’ve got Extremis stored there so I’m invincible. I got that going on for me.</p><p>Invincible Iron Man who doesn’t take off the suit because without it, he’s nothing. Well, bring me back to the good old days, Cap. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 8:04am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Skrulls. Goddamn Skrulls. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Tony</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 4:17pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Ok, let me tell you about what happened. </p><p>They dismantled S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe it was never meant to last. They have Osborn — can you believe it, out of all the people they could have chosen, they put Osborn in charge.</p><p>Well, maybe some might say the same thing about me when I took over for Hill. </p><p>He got the kill shot and the media broadcasted it live. Those damned hacks, they could have died flying their stupid helicopter out there in the line of battle. But whatever sells, right? They seized the fucking Tower, too. Osborn says that Tony Stark has been infected with a Skrull virus and all his decisions as Director are shit. Osborn tells the media that I tried to negotiate with the Skrulls. That I knew beforehand.</p><p>I didn’t. </p><p>Is it selfish.</p><p>To wish. </p><p>To wish you were here. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 12:39am </b>
</p><p>Steve, </p><p>You’d laugh. If you were alive. The Registration. It’s all gone, washed out and dry. Osborn wants to be called Commander, like he’s worth a damn. Like he’s half the man you are. I’ve learned long ago that no one can measure up to you. </p><p>You were supposed to be <i>here.</i> </p><p>I can’t fucking do this without you. You were the one that was supposed to be in charge. You’re the only one who could do this. I’ve tried. I really did. I committed. And shit, look where I am now. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 7:01pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>We buried Janet today.</p><p>Well. There wasn’t a body, but she was mourned by the world. Superhero, another one. A founding Avenger. Gone. </p><p>Hank's right. My hands are dirty. Always. Again and again. I'm sorry. For you, Steve. For Janet. For everything. We’ve lost a lot. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:09pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I have nothing to say today. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 3:09am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>You can't keep chasing after ideals, Steve. If we live in ideals, we'll never get anything done. Never satisfied. There's no moral high ground when we've all got blood on our hands. That's the price, Steve. The currency is sacrifice. It's your ideal that I hold onto now. I can't meet that expectation of heroism or make things right. But I will try.</p><p>You asked me a question that day. </p><p>I gave you my answer when it was too late.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 5:13am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I didn’t think I’d screw up so bad. I have a plan. Everything’s going to be okay. It will be fine. <i>It will.</i> You’re not around to see it. Maybe I won’t be either. I failed.</p><p>Pepper and I. It’s nothing, Steve. It isn’t. It’s just two people grappling with loss because there’s not much else. This is all I have. All we have. We seek comfort in each other because the men we love are dead. Yeah, love, Steve. Love. I can’t even keep it.</p><p>You would have hated it. This. Me. Extremis. Who I am now. I’ve always wanted to stand next to you and be invincible. I’m human, Steve, you can’t fault me for chasing after dreams. Not when I believed it to be the best. </p><p>We’re executing the sequence today. No time, Steve, we’ve never had enough time. You wouldn’t stand for this. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re gone. You’d say, <i>there has to be another way, Tony.</i> With those brows of yours quirking. </p><p>I didn’t realize it then. I thought you hated me. Terrified of what I’d become with Extremis. I really thought it was the right move. I still stand by that. But I’ve fucked up, I’m fucking up now. The last thing I’ll do is this. Keep all the files from Osborn. Delete, delete, delete. Files deleted.</p><p>Delete. Delete. Delete. </p><p>Gone. Gone. Gone.</p><p>That’s all we are, Steve, a body containing memories that light up with emotions. Reactions to life, to actions, to events. We’re just bodies and chemical balances and imbalances that <i>feel shit.</i> Man and the machine, that’s what Iron Man is. In the end, I don’t know if there’s a difference anymore. Not with Extremis, not with this big fucked up brain that thinks it can take on the world. Carry on, you might say. Well. This is it. </p><p>Everything will be fine. I’m still committed. Wipe myself clean, even though I’ll never forgive myself. For everything I’ve done. I won’t remember it. That’s death, it must be that. We’re only alive as long as we’re remembered, aren’t we? Personality, memories, feelings. Is that what makes us human, Steve? It might not be enough. Not without empathy. Not without guilt. </p><p>I won’t remember you. <i><span class="u">Us.</span></i></p><p>Remembering and forgetting — both are punishments. But the decision is made, Steve. This is all there is. </p><p>Always,<br/>
Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 2:54pm </b>
</p><p>Winghead,</p><p>Is this how it felt to be suspended in animation? I’m at a facility in the Red Sea. All these animals swim around, no care, filter in and out. Breathing. Being. I can't think. Who am I without a brain, Steve. Without thought. I'm losing it. I'm losing. And now, it's this. It's. Fuck. Gone. </p><p>I look at this stupid window and hope Namor took care of your body. You’re at peace. Wherever you are. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 4:07pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Am I misremembering?</p><p>I think you laughed your way down my throat. Your lips on me. You inside me. </p><p>Me inside you, maybe.</p><p>A dream, I think.</p><p>Something is fucked. I think Extremis is off and I’m deleting my brain and I can’t tell the difference between dreams, my fucking fantasies, and memory anymore. </p><p>Maybe they’re the same. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 5:03pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>You know how I was telling you about Namor? He’s still an ass. </p><p>Said I’m dead and forgotten. </p><p>He’s not wrong, but my sins can’t be forgotten. It’s not easy, isn’t it, Steve.</p><p>Dead. In the deep. In the dark. That's where you are, too, Steve. Dead in the water. See you soon.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 6:17am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>I’m on the run. Shouldn’t email.</p><p>But.</p><p>Well.</p><p>You’ve always listened.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 3:52am </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Found an old hole and this old computer. All fine. I'm simplifying the suit. Salvaged stuff. Can make a scrap out of nothing. You said that to me. Once. It's diminishing. My brain…. I —</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 4:15am </b>
</p><p>Steve</p><p>I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. </p><p>You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 9:03am </b>
</p><p>Steve.</p><p>Erasing your brain is pretty shitty. Wouldn’t recommend. Losing sight of the future. Some futurist who forgets. </p><p>I only know two things now.</p><p>Keep moving. Keep moving.</p><p>And you. You, again. Even now, <i><span class="u">you.</span> <b>You.</b></i> </p><p>You cling on like a damn bug.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 2:03am </b>
</p><p>Steve</p><p>I can't remember third grade. Cars. How I upgraded your suit. Or, that Christmas. Yeah, you know, that one. I still remember Ru. The slope of her nose. The shape of your lips. I think we used to laugh together. I'm losing it, Steve. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 12:42am </b>
</p><p>Steve, </p><p>I fucked up again, Steve. Maybe I always will. </p><p>I told you, I’m deleting my brain, piece by piece, but I find myself saving memories of us. </p><p>Why.</p><p>I don’t know why.</p><p>Yours,<br/>
Shellhead</p>
<hr/><p><b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:20am </b><br/>
Steve,</p><p>I’m forgetting things. More things.</p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 11:12pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Remembering you in the steps of the courthouse. </p><p>Then, your bloodied body on the examination table used to be punishment. But I’m trying to hold onto that memory now. </p><p>Tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 6:18pm </b>
</p><p>Steve.</p><p>Steve.</p><p>It’s wrong to say it. But —  </p><p>I loved you. I did. </p><p>I do. I love you, that is. </p><p>Forgive me.</p><p>I’ve said it in all the wrong ways throughout the years.</p><p>Always,<br/>
Tony</p>
<hr/><p>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:29am </p><p>Steve.</p><p>S-T-E-V-E. </p><p>I don’t think I can forget how to spell your name.</p><p>You. You. You. You. </p><p>Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 10:47pm </b>
</p><p>Steve;;;</p><p>reflexes have slowed. delay in memory processing. slowly, slowly, im deleting. not fast enough. not enough. </p><p>im holding off on getting to you</p><p>let me savor your memory. i dont deserve it. I know. i dont deserve to remember you. us. but let me have this</p><p>ok </p><p>always been a selfish man</p><p>tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 11:17am </b>
</p><p>my spelling is not so great anymore. but you won't read this, will you, steve. </p><p>love,<br/>
tony</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 7:09am </b>
</p><p>steve,</p><p>steve, steve, steve, steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,<br/>
steve, steve, steve,</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 9:38am </b>
</p><p>winghead.</p><p>i think you liked that name.</p><p>TS</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 7:53pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>you. you. i dont know what im trying to say, but i only think of one word</p><p>you. </p><p>you, always.</p><p>Nnno.</p><p>No</p><p>You</p><p>Steve.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:09pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u .</p><p>I miss</p><p>u u u u u u u u u . </p><p>No.</p><p>It’s you. you you you you you you you.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 1:57pm </b>
</p><p>Be </p><p>Be </p><p>Be </p><p>Be safe</p><p>Be safe</p><p>Be safe  </p><p>Be safe</p><p>Steve </p><p>Where </p><p>Ever</p><p>You are.</p><p>You are </p><p>Steve. </p><p>T</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 4:09pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>delete </p><p>delete delete delete. </p><p>back in Aghfan. </p><p>its the best i can do.</p><p>it’ll be over soon, Steve. </p><p>end of the line. end of my mind. soon. i will forget you too. sorry, old friend. </p><p>winghead</p><p>steve rogers </p><p>cap</p><p>kid with a gun. wants to be great. shot me in the neck. heh.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Subject: [no subject]<br/>
Sent: 7:13pm </b>
</p><p>Steve,</p><p>Time to die</p><p>See you </p><p>Soon</p><p>
  <i>Soon </i>
</p><p>welcome me, alright </p><p>welcome.</p><p>
  <i>
    <span class="u">Soon. </span>
  </i>
</p><p>TS</p>
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